


The Blue Danube

by riventhorn



Series: Only Yesterday [1]
Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-10
Updated: 2010-06-10
Packaged: 2017-10-15 02:37:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riventhorn/pseuds/riventhorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> Written  for the <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/kinkme_merlin/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/kinkme_merlin/"><b>kinkme_merlin</b></a> prompt:   <em>Arthur/Merlin, where one of them is wearing a full-skirted, floor-length gown and the other is extremely turned on and gives him a blowjob underneath it. </em>Set in London in the 1920s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blue Danube

**Author's Note:**

>  Apparently I cannot help adding in historical notes at the end--feel free to skip if that's not your thing!

_London, 1922_

 

Merlin fastened the clasp and stepped back. “Oh. Oh, you look beautiful,” he said softly.

 

Arthur smoothed his fingers over the silk taffeta skirt of the ball gown. He took a step forward, and it rustled softly, swaying, just as he had imagined it would. The top was cut off the shoulder, and it was a lovely Blue-Callot color. “It will match your eyes,” Merlin had whispered when they had chosen it.

 

Ever since they had seen The Prisoner of Zenda, Arthur had been enamored with the full-skirted gowns the actresses had worn in the ball scene. The seamstress had frowned and said that it wasn’t _quite_ the style, dear, are you sure your girl will like it? Arthur had said yes, it was just the thing. And confirmed, once again, that no, he hadn’t gotten the measurements wrong.

 

It had been horribly expensive, of course. And they couldn’t really afford it since Arthur had lost his job. He still felt furious over that.  It had been such bloody bad luck. A Saturday night, and he and Merlin in line outside the Corner House. Bad enough to be seen there, but Arthur had been in a light coloured suit, with a dark blue beaded scarf around his neck. A touch of Lipsyl—just enough to give his lips a slight gloss. “Damn gorgeous, darling,” Merlin had said upon seeing him.

 

But then a bloke from his office had come walking by. What the hell had he been doing in the West End? Harry had always seemed a fucking straight arrow—not even a rough. He had seen Arthur, seen the way he was dressed, how he was holding Merlin’s hand. Monday, Arthur’s boss had called him in. “We don’t want no fucking poofs here,” he had said and given Arthur until the end of the day to clear out.

 

Merlin had come home to find Arthur slumped in a chair, smoking a cigarette. “It’ll be all right,” Merlin had said, when Arthur told him what had happened. “We’ll get by. I’ll pick up a few extra shifts.”

 

He had pulled Arthur close and kissed him. “You deserve something—something special. What would you like?”

 

Arthur had thought immediately of the dress, of course, but he hadn’t mentioned it at first. Merlin had finally coaxed it out of him, though.

 

“It’s too much,” Arthur had protested. “We don’t have the money.”

 

“You’re worth it,” Merlin had whispered, kissing him again.

 

The feeling of something cool against his skin jerked Arthur back to the present. Merlin was fastening a string of imitation pearls around his neck. “There,” Merlin said. “That’s perfect.”

 

Merlin was wearing a tux, the tie a little crooked. He smiled and held out his arm. “Shall we?”

 

Arthur took his arm, and Merlin led the way out of the bedroom. There was an awkward moment in the door, but Arthur managed to squeeze through without ripping anything. They had shoved all of their shabby furniture off to the sides, clearing a large space on the faded carpet. Merlin went over to the gramophone and put on a record. The first strains of Strauss’s Blue Danube floated out.

 

They weren’t the best dancers, and there wasn’t really room for a waltz. But Merlin’s hand was warm against his waist, and the dress floated around him, the silk shining. Arthur could imagine them in a ballroom, gliding over the floor, an orchestra playing.

 

The song ended, but Merlin kept his hand on Arthur’s waist, the other moving to cup Arthur’s face and tilt it for a kiss. Then his mouth slipped down to trail along Arthur’s jawline. Arthur let go of the skirt, putting both hands on Merlin.

 

Merlin lingered along the dip in Arthur’s collarbone, his hands now dropping to slide along the bodice, his thumbs brushing against Arthur’s nipples. Arthur gasped and tangled his fingers in Merlin’s hair while Merlin trailed his lips along the divide between silk and skin.

 

And then Merlin was going lower, his hands feeling the shape of the skirt, his face pressed into the silk. He knelt on the ground, glanced up, and grinned—a wicked grin that sent a flash of lust through Arthur. He had already been growing hard from Merlin’s attentions, but when Merlin suddenly lifted his skirt and ducked under it, his prick stiffened completely.

 

A second later, Arthur felt Merlin’s mouth through the tight knickers he was wearing. Arthur bit back a moan and looked down. He could hardly tell Merlin was there, the skirt was so fucking big. Just the tips of Merlin’s shoes stuck out. He felt Merlin slip his fingers under the elastic band, slowly roll down the knickers, and then Merlin’s mouth was on him. Wet, sucking, taking Arthur down his throat as far as he could go.

 

Arthur did moan then. His legs were shaking, and he hoped he didn’t stumble, twist his ankle in the high heels. Merlin seemed to sense his unsteadiness, for he put his hands on Arthur’s waist, gripping firmly.

 

“Just like that, Merlin,” Arthur breathed, although Merlin probably couldn’t hear him. “You know how I like it. Fuck—just like that.”

 

Tongue, pressure, almost pulling off for a second, and then sucking his prick right back down. Arthur was panting for breath, the bodice of the dress tightening against his chest. He gripped the skirt, held on tightly, and tried not to scream as his orgasm hit him. Merlin kept Arthur in his mouth, swallowing, only his hands keeping Arthur from collapsing on the floor. Arthur was trembling when he finished, and a whimper escaped him as Merlin gently licked his softening cock. 

  
 

A slight pause as Merlin pulled the knickers back up, and then he emerged from under the skirt. His hair was a mess, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. Arthur grabbed him and jerked him upright, propelled him back against the wall, his mouth already on Merlin’s. Merlin thumped against the boards, his hands scrabbling at Arthur’s back. Merlin’s prick was a hard bulge in his trousers, and Arthur managed to work a hand in. Two, three strokes, and Merlin was coming, clutching at Arthur.

 

They stilled, waiting for their hearts to slow down. Merlin trailed his fingers lightly across Arthur’s back. “Now _that_ was a proper waltz,” he murmured.

 

Arthur laughed. “I don’t know if Strauss would have approved.”

 

“Ah, well, fuck him.” Merlin pushed away slightly so that he could look at Arthur again. “He never saw you in this dress.” And Merlin caught Arthur’s hand and pressed a demure kiss on the back of it.

 

“I didn’t know you could be so charming, Merlin,” Arthur teased. “Judging by your usual behavior.”

 

“Silk brings out the best in me,” Merlin replied.

 

Arthur leaned closer. “And does it make you want to fuck me over the bed?” he asked in a soft voice. “Feel that silk sliding over your thighs?”

 

Merlin swallowed and nodded. 

 

Arthur stepped back, not bothering to hide his smug grin. “One more waltz first.”

 

“But—”

 

“We didn’t spend all that money on this dress just for you to take it right off me again,” Arthur replied.

 

Merlin grumbled as he went to put on the Emperor Waltz, but when Arthur was in his arms again, and they were moving over the floor, he gave Arthur one of those smiles. A smile that said Arthur was his whole world.  Arthur squeezed Merlin’s hand, and for a second the tattered wallpaper, the scratchy gramophone, the blaring honk of a car horn faded, and they were in a vaulted hall thick with candles, the music of the orchestra lilting through the air, dancing as the night stretched on before them.

 

~Fin~

 

 

 

Notes:

 

 Callot Soeurs was a famous fashion house in turn of the century Paris. They developed a signature blue color called Blue-Callot.

 

The Prisoner of Zenda was a 1922 silent film. I know the 1937 remake had a ballroom scene, but I’m not sure about the 1922 one.

 

Arthur is wearing Directoire knickers (or bloomers) under the dress—tighter fitting and with elastic on the top.

 

In the context of the early 1900s gay male world, “rough” was a term for a man who would have sex with other men but did not adopt an effeminate manner or dress (Matt Houlbrook, _Queer London: Perils and Pleasures in the Sexual Metropolis, 1918-1957—_ sorry, but apparently I cannot break away from the principle of citing sources even in a kink fic!).

 

Lyons’s Coventry Street Corner House was a gay London landmark from 1909 through the 1940s. In the 1950s it was renamed the Lilypond (Houlbrook).

 

 

  



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